Please, as you were

Whoever coined the term "morning sickness" certainly got the "sickness" part right. Yoko's been one hell of a trooper, I'll tell you that. I, on the other hand, have not. The sound of someone vomiting makes me nauseous. I just want everything to be okay. I think the baby will have black hair. And blue eyes. Yoko says that's not possible because eye color comes from the mother's side of the family. I have never cared for genetics. The baby will be so small.

One good thing is I might be in line for a kind of "promotion" at school next year. Well, not really a "promotion" but more money and better hours and the prestige of being a "full time" teacher at my "prestigious" high school. I would type the name, but then if someone does a search for it, this will come up. And everyone would find out what you already know: that I'm a sham.

My neck beard slipped down the drain of the shower today. All of it, but the soul patch. Yoko laughed. "Only this is left?" she said.

I bet I could write a Mountain Goats song: "I went to the bathroom./ I wasn't wearing any shoes./ The tile was cold./ But not that cold./ The toilet was white./..." and so forth. Please don't take that to mean that I don't love the hell out of the Mountain Goats. Because I do.

Moreover, if this song here can't touch you, well, you are standing too far away.